Cobwebs
by Youkai Hime90
Summary: He was losing to a figment of the past and miserably. Miroku x Sango x Kohaku. Oneshot.


**A/N**

I know I should be working on my SanBan fic Beautiful (which I'm halfway done…) but I read this great KohSan fic and as a result I was inspired. Not my best. (shrugs) Oh well.

**Warning: I apologize for any OOC' ness!**

**Disclaimer: There's no way I own Inuyasha.** **I do not make any profit from this. I'm simply using them for my own sick and twisted purposes.**

'thought'

_flashback _or_ dream sequence_

* * *

Cobwebs

By: Youkai Hime90

Miroku loves the way they feel together, skin on skin, and flesh on flesh. He closes his eyes and holds her close, tracing her beautiful, lovely scars. He understands undoubtedly that they are apart of what make her the woman he loves and he accepts this. Regardless of how many battle scars pepper her skin and no matter how many broken smiles she wears just for the world, to him, she will always be beautiful because she is Sango and he loves her.

Even though she doesn't remember.

Her head is on his chest, their limbs twined haphazardly. She listens to his pulse and sighs quietly, brown eyes fluttering closed.

"Don't fall asleep." He doesn't mean it to sound so harsh, but he was never really good with words.

"Why?" He never lets her sleep.

Miroku never answers.

--

He remembers the grief stricken sister. She carried dead memories in her heavy heart and wilted lilies wherever she went. She was always in mourning and she was in so much pain because of _him _and his blood stained hands. She was always sad and weary, reluctant to let others in.

He remembers the fierce taijiya. She reveled in battle and lived for the thrill of the hunt. She always and always fought, because she wanted to protect the innocent and hoped to momentarily forget her past in the throes of battle and just not remember _any_ of it.

Sango forgets nothing loved is ever truly lost, and pain is a small price to pay for memories.

But, ignorance is bliss.

"_Houshi-sama!"_

And because Miroku _loves_ her with all of his heart, as he watches her clutch her little brother's body, fingertips dripping with crimson, shoulders trembling as she sobs out her anguish he makes her wish come true.

--

"Where am I?" Sango shrieks confusedly, retreating into the corner of Kaede's hut like a small and frightened animal that has been cornered. Her eyes shine with fear. "Who are you?"

Miroku slowly approaches her, sympathetic yet knowing it is all necessary in the end.

"It's alright, my name is Miroku." No sign of recognition. Sango shakes her head fiercely.

"I-I don't know you."

He clasps her hands in his, blue eyes full of conviction. "You do. It's just you don't remember. You see," he pauses taking a deep breath, "you had a terrible accident…"

--

Sango laughs now. The monk watches as she plays with the small village children, eyes bright and innocent. Yes, Miroku thinks smiling; it was for the better that she had forgotten. Now she is free. Now she is happy. Now she is his. Her brown eyes focus on him and him alone. Blushing, she approaches him one day, gazing anywhere but at the monk in front of her.

Miroku is amused. "Yes?"

Sango's cheeks flush even more and she scrunches the material of her summer yukata. "I think I loved someone." Slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet his and she sucks in a deep breath.

"Was…was it you?"

The image of youthful brown eyes and sun kissed freckles flashes across his mind. Slowly, he nods and smiles softly.

"Yes."

--

"Miroku?" Sango asks reluctantly, in the middle of the night. She traces his cheek, eyes confused, searching for something.

"Yes?"

"I think I dreamed of you…"

"Really?" His blue eyes have a mischievous light in them that causes the young woman to swallow her fears and smile. He seems genuinely curious and she laughs, smacking his wandering hands away playfully.

"Not that kind of dream!" She pauses and continues, "When we were children…did you have freckles?"

The monk freezes, body tensing. He glances away quickly. Ashamed. Guilty. Because Sango doesn't know. She doesn't _remember_.

"Miroku? Did you..?" She looks desperate and pleads with him incessantly until he supplies her with the answer she wants to hear.

"Yes."

She smiles and cuddles against his chest, content. He wraps his arms around hers loosely.

"I knew it was you…"

--

Sango wakes up in a cold sweat, eyes wide with alarm. She closes her eyes and raises her hand to her head, rubbing her temples. Miroku stirs and wakes to find a tearful Sango weeping.

"Sango…what's wrong?"

He holds her, heart pounding, a million questions running through his mind as he strokes her sweat slicked back. Her tears burn his skin and he waits impatiently, dreading her answer.

"M-Miroku…" she whispers, voice small and scared, questioning.

"Yes?"

She draws back from him slowly and his heart pangs with guilt. Her large brown eyes glimmer with tears, face framed by ebony silk. He feels somehow he is the cause of her tears and he swallows hard, meeting her gaze reluctantly. He finds no hate only confusion.

"I had a nightmare, a horrible, horrible nightmare!" she stammers, shaking. "There was so much blood. And I was running…than someone stabbed me from behind."

His face is white and his lips are pursed in a pained expression.

"M-Miroku…was it you? Did…did _you_ hurt me?"

One hand rises to the small of her back, then up, through the waves of her raven hair to rub against her shoulder. She is soft under his touch and she trembles, arms wrapping tightly around him, clinging and desperate. He breathes deeply and takes in her scent and remembers that tomorrow could be the day she remembers.

The dead boy glares at him in hate and screams at him angrily to give Sango back.

"No."

And it is a lie.

--

Moments later Sango is asleep.

Miroku watches her silently, a bitter smile curling his lips. The gentle rise and fall of her chest and the soft whispering sound of her breathing is hypnotic and steady. Her full red ruby lips are parted in a smile, long ebony hair fanned out on the pillow. She curls onto her side, her arms pulling at the bed coverings so that she might hold them to her as one might hold a lover.

She is smiling because of _him_ and not because of him..

"_Don't fall asleep." _

"_Why?" _

Because…no matter how many times she declares her love for him he knows that she is slowly slipping farther and farther away from him each passing day. Because…he knows that only in the light of the beautiful, glorious sun does her heart belong to him. In dreams _he_ came to her and she was no longer his..

And Miroku knows even though it was _he_ who had caused her so much sadness, so much heart wrenching despair it will be the monk she hates in the morning when she's realized what he's done to her. It doesn't matter if _he_ betrayed her for her worst enemy or that _he _was the cause of her tears. When she wakes up it will be him he hates for taking her precious little brother away and stealing her memories.

Kohaku was just wish-waiting for the day she would _remember_.

He was losing to a figment of the past and miserably.


End file.
